[ He settles a little more comfortable in his seat, leaning back with one elbow draped over the back of the chair and toying with his glass with the other hand. His expression gives away little more than mild curiosity with the arch of an eyebrow.

A light shrug with one shoulder. ]

You're not wrong. [ That he's not particularly interested in the subject. With Urianger, another elf, it's a little different. No, with Jaskier his curiosity lies in an adjacent space. ]

I've been this longer than I was living elf. [ Another bitter edge to his tone, and he scoffs. ] I wager that most of my own people don't consider me kin anymore. I could hardly blame them, honestly. [ He could. ]

Difficult to get past the business of bloodlust and fangs.

[ He swirls the wine in his glass, watching the liquid lap close to the rim. ]

I suppose... I merely wondered why you always look so despondent whenever you speak of them.